Mr. Carden was already at his desk as I nudged open the cracked door to our office. Hair wet, as usual. The deep frown between his eyebrows let me know I should move with caution.
“Your father’s been expanding his portfolio, hasn’t he?” Richard asked me while raising a mug in Mr. Carden’s direction as a greeting.
Mr. Carden nodded in response.
“Uh-huh, but I don’t think he’s ready for engineering just yet. Still mostly films and media…” I said, taking my seat and turningon my laptop. I wanted conversation, yes, but I didn’t want it to be about Douglas Gordon-Bettencourt.
“If all else fails, you could absolutely become an actress,” Richard added.
Mr. Carden’s head shot up, and the glare he delivered had the structural engineer retreating back to Bridges. Mr. Carden’s gaze dropped without meeting mine, and he tugged his headset over his ears. I tried not to take it personally but failed. Over the last few weeks, there were moments when I felt like I’d decoded him. It was addictive. I craved his validation. I mean… he’s my boss. Everyone wants praise from their boss.
Ignoring the urge to say something, I opened my inbox and found seven new emails from Mr. Carden, where at least five could have been done in person through a three-second conversation.
I replied to them since he had his headset on. I wasn’t in the mood to swing my arms around and get his attention—which would probably leave him unimpressed.
His gaze lifted from his screen to me. My email landing in his inbox must have drawn his attention. I waved sheepishly, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear me, said, “Good morning.”
He slid the headphones down to his neck and swiped a hand across his growing stubble. “Morning. I’ll be busy and on-site for the first half of the day, but when I get back, we can take a look at the Poplar and Azalea Road intersection.”
“Can I come with you?” I asked, and pointed at the pair of worn-out secondhand safety boots I’d bought online.
He shook his head, and my face must have fallen because something in his gaze softened. “Not today. All we’re doing today is fighting. It’s not a good introduction, and you won’t learn anything except maybe a few new swear words.”
“I know I’ve underwhelmed you with my technical abilities, but I could definitely impress you with my foul language.”
He shook his head, and his tight shoulders relaxed for a moment. If I could see his face, I’d bet the corner of his mouth would have twitched into an almost-smile.
He grabbed a rolled-up drawing off his desk and handed it to me. “Focus on fixing this alignment. We’ll review it when I get back.”
He walked back to his desk, taking a long moment to stare at it. His eyes darted around as he seemed to make a mental checklist of which items he’d need.
Then he gathered his things and was gone. Replaced by Mr. Anders, who was one of those men who were always making jokes that bordered on offensive but wasn’t quite enough for you to ever call him out on it. Plus, he was the boss, my boss’s boss, and I wanted this job enough to laugh at whatever under-thought-of pun he sent my way. Simucon’s reputation and higher salaries would be worth it.
“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked, walking into the office in the one second I took to reapply my lipstick in my selfie camera.
I laughed awkwardly and pressed my lips together.
“Carden hasn’t given me an update on you in a while. I’ve heard from everyone else.”
“He’s been swamped,” I said, unsure if I was defending Mr. Carden or myself. My mouth went dry with that awful feeling of falling behind.
He snickered. “It’s not too late to switch disciplines.”
For a second, I considered how effortless it would be to get the senior engineer I’d spoken to this morning to provide feedback. Mr. Carden on the other hand…
I accidentally exhaled out loud.
Mr. Anders narrowed his eyes. “I’m aware Carden isn’t the easiest person to work with, and if you have any complaints about him, I’m all ears. We, at Simucon, pride ourselves on this internship, andour mentors and managers need to meet the high standards we’ve set.”
“He’s perfect,” I replied in one quick breath, despite wanting more from Mr. Carden. “I have no complaints.”
Mr. Anders nodded. “Well, that’s good to know. Carden is the best of the best in traffic and geometric design.” He walked around to Mr. Carden’s desk. “He single-handedly designed the widening of the highway between Freeland and Disselweed, including every interchange upgrade along that twenty-five-mile stretch of mountainous road, and he did it in half the allocated time. We made a fortune.”
My jaw dropped. I knew Mr. Carden was brilliant, but somehow he kept surprising me.
“If he wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t have kept him around,” he said with a laugh.
“What?” I squawked out.
